mb: Mews and Boon

What many do not realise is that Miyagi is also very good at writ­ing love sto­ries.

So I shall attempt to write a love story too.

Zapped!: Love Amongst the Pho­to­copier Machines

Her lips said she didn’t want to see me any­more. But her eyes told me some­thing else. I could tell from the way her pupils dilated, that her eye­balls were say­ing “Stay, please!”

Even the court order she took out on me was prob­a­bly on impulse. Because I know she wanted me from Day One. The way I wanted her. We were two MRT trains pass­ing each other in the night, exchang­ing pas­sen­gers at Lovers Place Interchange.

I remem­ber when we first met. She was pho­to­copy­ing notes at the Uni pho­to­copy­ing machines. I asked her if the one next to hers was taken, and she said, “Er, no.”

She had me at “Er, no”.

It was not the kind of thing you said to some­one you had no feel­ings for. When you have seen unre­quited love as many times as I have, you can tell the difference.

In the din of the pho­to­copy­ing machines pho­to­copy­ing, and the smell of ammo­nia invad­ing every student’s nos­trils and lungs, a love was born.

A love that was an orig­i­nal like the one on the platen glass of a copier, and not a copy that was spit out on the paper tray. A love that hap­pened when two hearts were zapped with the Toner of Pas­sion. A Double-sided love.

But even the great­est love story has its speed bumps. And ours was no dif­fer­ent. She needed space.

Sure, I can under­stand. It was prob­a­bly a lit­tle pos­ses­sive of me to be fol­low­ing her home and every­where on cam­pus. Attend­ing her lec­tures even though I was from a dif­fer­ent fac­ulty was also prob­a­bly a lit­tle over­whelm­ing for her.

And call­ing her hand­phone num­ber, which I went through a lot of trou­ble to find, every ten min­utes, was prob­a­bly sti­fling her as a person.

But we were an item, dammit! We even went on a date!

Kind of a date. I fol­lowed her to the nearby MacDonald’s and sat at the table next to hers. And we had a lovely din­ner under the same roof. Three burg­ers (I was hun­gry), two tables, one united soul.

I shall give her the space she wants tonight. I won’t even call her. That’s the kind of love we have. Where you don’t need to talk and yet you know what the other per­son is think­ing. I shall be con­tent to sleep with a photo I took of her back with my mobile phone, in the lec­ture the­atre, when she was not looking.

She has such nice hair. Tomor­row I shall make her some soft toys. Two teddy bears. One will have a photo of her face on it. And the other one will have mine.

The court order never said I couldn’t give her gifts, right?

I kiss her photo and go to sleep. The course of True Love nair did run smooth.